Emily and Agent Prentiss
by JazziePerson
Summary: Love begins by taking care of the closest ones - the ones at home - - Mother Theresa. Emily's boyfriend spends his life hoping that Emily won't come home and shut him out forever.
1. Returning Home

Author's Note: So, this is my new Criminal Minds story. It's about eight chapters, all of which are written, just not all typed and they are from the point of view of a boyfriend of Emily's, who is living with her throughout Series 4 and 5 ish. I hope you like it and please review to tell me what you think. This chapter is after Emily gets home from New York, episodes Lofi and Mayhem.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the original Criminal Minds characters.

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Returning Home

Emily got in at about six o'clock. She looked tired, her shoulders sagging and she had dark circles emerging under her eyes. She had her ready bag slung over her shoulder which she dumped in the hallway as soon as the door was closed. More gently, she placed her laptop bag on the floor next to the stairs and then hung up her coat. She unclipped her gun and took the clip out before putting them both in the little safe.

I got up slowly and moved towards her. She looked like she was dead on her feet so I just wrapped my arms around her and just like that, she was pressed against me, her breathing hitching only slightly. In the time I've known Emily Prentiss, I don't think I've ever seen her cry. Even though she's tall, I'm taller and I pressed my cheek against her hair and we just stood there, being together.

After a couple of minutes, Emily pulled away. Her cheeks were dry, her makeup still in place and she smiled weakly at me, blowing her hair off her forehead.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

She ran her hand through her hair and nodded. "Yeah," she sighed. "It's just been a long day."

"When did the day start?"

She smiled almost ruefully. "Two days ago, about four am."

"That'll be why you're tired." I pointed out.

Emily only nodded absently. I could see she had something on her mind.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

Emily looked up. "Huh? Oh, no. It's fine. I'm fine."

I nodded. Getting information out of Emily Prentiss when she didn't want you to know was like getting blood out of a stone. It didn't help to push her.

"Okay. Why don't you put your laundry by the washing machine and I'll run you a bath? How does that sound?"

Emily almost groaned in pleasure. "That sounds absolutely heavenly." She leaned forward and kissed me on the lips. It was quick and sweet but it was nice. It was like I had my girlfriend back instead of Supervisory Special Agent Prentiss. I smiled at her.

And, although she had been absolutely exhausted moments ago, she almost skipped over to her ready bag to get her dirty clothes. I nearly laughed but just shook my head. She was such a funny person.

I ran up to the bathroom and turned on the hot water in the bath. I squeezed in some of Emily's favourite bubble bath and took her favourite shampoo and conditioner from the shower and put them on the side of the bath.

Closing the door behind me, I figured I'd go back to my book while Emily had her bath and then, depending on whether she wanted dinner or not, we'd head to bed.

***

Almost an hour later, I heard the gentle creaking of the stairs and looked up to see Emily coming down, almost zombie-like from relaxation. I would've said completely zombie-like if it hadn't been for the essence of alertness that clung to Emily like a second skin. I suppose it came with the job and the way she'd been brought up.

But anyway, she stumbled on the second to last step but caught herself before she fell. She was wrapped up in her dark blue dressing gown with a white towel around her shoulders to dry her hair with. She threw herself down on the sofa next to me and curled up, with her head on a pillow.

"I'm assuming you don't want dinner then," I smiled as I looked at her. It was nice to see the real her rather than the work persona.

"No. Go away. Sleeping." Emily mumbled, burrowing further into the cushion.

"Come on, girl." I put my book on the arm of the sofa and stood up. "The bed is definitely more comfortable than the sofa."

Emily groaned but let me pull her onto her feet.

"Come on," I coaxed. "I'll lead you. You won't even have to open your eyes."

As I said that, her eyes opened and she scowled at me sleepily. "Fine. Lead the way."

"As you wish." I grinned and took her up the stairs, pushing open the bedroom door ahead of me. As soon as we were inside, Emily made a dive for the bed and snuggled up on top of the covers. "This is so nice. I miss this bed when I'm away." She murmured, already half asleep again.

"I hope you missed me as much as the bed." I teased as I pried the dressing down off her. Underneath, I saw she was wearing a pair of my boxers and one of my shirts.

She saw me looking. "I did miss you."

I smiled. "Good. I missed you." I leant down and kissed her on the forehead. "I'll be up in a bit.

***

I'd fallen asleep on the sofa. I opened my eyes to the shadowy room. The only dim light source came from the lamp I'd been using to ready by. I glanced at the clock on the DVD player: two sixteen am. I groaned, wondering what had woken me up. But then I heard a noise upstairs. I froze, listening.

Then I heard it again. I'd been afraid that someone had broken in but it wasn't. It was a whimpering sound, crying. For a second, none of it was accepted into my brain. Emily didn't cry.

But then there was a scream. I sprung off the couch and raced up the stairs, pushing the bedroom door open with more force than was probably necessary. In the darkness, I could make out Emily writhing on the bed, her legs all twisted up in the sheets. She was screaming and screaming and still locked in her sleep.

"Emily!" I said loudly as I sat down on the bed beside her. I grabbed her flailing arms and held on gently. "Emily, it's okay. I'm here, Emily. Come on, wake up. It's okay. I promise, it's okay."I hoped that speaking to her might pull her out of her nightmare.

Luckily for both her and me, I think, Emily suddenly gasped and her eyes flew open. She swallowed several times and sat up slowly. She was breathing deeply, carefully, trying to regain her composure.

I watched her as she closed her eyes and concentrated on her breathing. As she blew out and sucked in slowly, I found myself mimicking her. For a few minutes we sat in the dark, in silence.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked finally.

Emily shook her head. "No, it's fine. I'm okay." Although she'd been calming herself down, there was a slightly hysterical edge to her voice that I noticed. I didn't know if she did.

"Are you sure?" I didn't want to push her but I'd been woken up by her screaming for god's sake. That had to be one hell of a nightmare.

"Yes. I'm fine." Emily's tone was clipped as she lay back down. Agent Prentiss was back again. I noticed that she had her eyes forced open. I may have been no profiler but I could tell that what she had dreamt had rattled her. She was scared and she didn't want to admit it.

I lay down beside her, facing her, making eye contact. She stared back at me, her muscles tight in apprehension.

"Emily, what did you see?" I asked her. I gently moved a strand of her hair out of her face and rested my hand on her bare forearm.

She hesitated. She was trying to decide whether to trust me or not, I could see it in her eyes. But she doesn't trust anyone; I know that. I don't think she knows I know. She throws a facade around herself, pretending she trusts people. But she doesn't trust anyone, not enough to share her real self, the person she's comfortable being with them. But I could try.

She took a deep breath. "There was a car bomb while we were in New York. My boss was caught in it. That's what I saw."

"Is he...?" I trailed off. I didn't want to ask.

"No," Emily shook her head. "No, he's okay. An Agent from New York died."

"I'm sorry." What else could I say?"

"I didn't really know her." Emily's voice was hollow, sad.

"And that was your nightmare?"

"Yeah, that was it." But I could see that that wasn't it. There was more; there was so much more. The job she did, the life she lived inside her head were things I'd never know or understand. The things she'd seen on the job would haunt her forever from the little I knew about it. Her job was the biggest part of her life. I knew that. It was fine. It had to be. Because I loved her.


	2. Insistence

Author's Note: So, chapter two. This is the story attached to Minimal Loss. I hope you enjoy it and please, please review!

DISCLAIMER: I only own the boyfriend, nobody else.

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Insistence

I was eating breakfast when I heard the front door open. It was only just seven o'clock in the morning and I was getting ready to head to work. I'd been expecting Emily home last night but when she hadn't come home I wasn't too worried. It wouldn't have been the first time a case had taken longer than expected and Emily hadn't texted to say when she'd be home. I'd start getting worried if I didn't hear from her or one of her team for a week.

But I got up when I heard the door open. But then I heard another voice. When Emily and I had gotten together she had asked to keep her personal life and professional life separate. I had no problem with that and I understood it. Her work was filled with horrors; she wanted something apart from that. So I stayed in the kitchen and listened for an opportunity to approach her.

"I told you: I'm fine." Emily sounded slightly exasperated.

"Are you sure?" It was a male voice.

"Really. The medics checked me out. I'm good to go. Seriously, Hotch. I just want to go to bed with some painkillers." I was starting to worry. I just wanted this 'Hotch' guy to go so that I could see for myself if she was okay. I was a doctor after all. I would know.

"Okay. Give me a call if you need anything. And I don't want to see you in the office today or tomorrow."

"Thanks Hotch." I could hear the smile in Emily's voice. "Bye."

"Goodbye, Prentiss." No need to worry about him, I told myself. He calls her by her second name.

I heard the door close. I rounded the corner having put my plate on the breakfast bar.

"Emily, what-" I stopped when I saw her. She had a dark purple bruise spreading over the left side of her face and she had a hand wrapped around her ribs. Her ready bag had been placed by the door. "What happened?" She looked terrible.

"I wish people would stop fussing. I'm fine, really. I took a bit of a kicking to the ribs but I'm okay. I was checked out by the EMTs on scene." She met my eyes. "I promise I'm alright. But I've been up all night and I'd really like to go to bed now."

I nodded, not entirely convinced. "Who was that guy just now?" I tried to keep all traces of jealousy out of my voice.

"That was Hotch, my boss. He didn't want me to drive or carry my bags," she rolled her eyes, "he thinks it's his fault I got beaten up."

"Are you sure you're alright? I could check you over before I got to work..." I drew her into a hug.

"Careful of the ribs," she murmured into my shoulder. "But really, I'm alright. I just want to take a painkiller and get some sleep. In case you didn't hear, I have a couple of days off."

"Do you want me to stay? I could call in sick..." I suggested.

"Don't worry. I won't be much company. Please go to work; I just want to sleep." Emily pushed me towards the door.

I held her off gently by the wrist. "You shouldn't take painkillers on an empty stomach. When was the last time you ate?"

Emily frowned, working it out. "Um, yesterday? Yeah, breakfast with you yesterday." She smiled a little sheepishly.

"Go upstairs and get changed. I'll cook you breakfast and you can have it in bed. I'll find you some painkillers as well."

Emily smiled and reached down to pick up her bag.

"No. You go. I'll get your bag." I told her.

"You don't have to do it because Hotch was overprotective." She protested.

"I'm not doing it because Hotch did it. I'm doing it because you shouldn't do any lifting."

Emily let out an exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes at me. But whatever was going through her head, stayed there, because she leaned forward to kiss me and then turned up the stairs.

"Don't lie down. You can't digest properly if you're horizontal." I shouted up after her.

"Yes, Dad." Was all I got in way of a reply.

I laughed.

***

Emily was sitting up in bed with a hot water bottle on her ribs when I got upstairs, holding her breakfast tray.

"It helps." She gestured to the hot water bottle.

"Well, I have brought you scrambled eggs, toast, yoghurt and tea. And your bag and a packet of painkillers." I dropped the bag on the floor and placed the tray on Emily's lap.

"You spoil me." She smiled as she picked up the mug of tea.

"There's nothing wrong with a bit of spoiling." I kissed her on the forehead. "Do you want me to throw your dirty laundry in the wash on my way out?" I reached for her go bag.

"Thank you."

"Then I'll be off and you can ring me at the hospital if you need me." I ruffled her hair.

She batted my hand away. "Have a good day. I'll make dinner."

"Bye." I called as I closed the door with her clothes in hand.

I ran down the stairs and went into the little cupboard room that had been converted into a utilities room. I sorted everything and threw the dark coloured clothes into the washing machine. I was about to leave when I caught sight of something. When I'd thrown Emily's shirt onto the light coloured pile, I hadn't seen the blood stain I was looking at now. I picked it up and tentatively touched the blood. It was dried, probably from yesterday, I guessed. This was the shirt she'd been wearing yesterday at breakfast. Although I'd known she'd been beaten up, I hadn't thought it had been this bad. I would've thought that Emily would've told me about it.

I shook my head as I put the shirt back on the pile. I was being ridiculous.


	3. Haunted Eyes

Author's Note: Hey, guys. Sorry it's been a while. I've got a week of exams, not this week but the week after and I really should be doing revision. But this was already written and some reviews would really cheer me up :) So please review and tell me what you think, if you think Emily overreacted or the boyfriend did or whatever. I'm very concerned about my Philosophy, History and Psychology exams so some feedback would distract me nicely and make me feel much better. Thanks guys. This is the chapter for _Demonology_.

DISCLAIMER: I only own the boyfriend, nothing else :(

Haunted Eyes

At almost four in the morning, I watched the front door open slowly, silently. Emily crept into the darkened room, her head down as she brushed snow out of her hair and off her coat. I'd watched the snow fall earlier, at about midnight or so. On my own.

I took a deep breath to ease the irritation. I knew when I'd gotten together with Emily that her job was going to be difficult. She'd warned me and I'd said I didn't mind. Well, now I was starting to mind a bit. I knew I shouldn't but I did.

"Hey, Emily." I called from the sofa.

She lifted her head. Her cheeks were red from the cold wind and there was blood on her face. It looked like it had come from her nose.

"Are you okay?" I asked as I got up.

She nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine." Her voice sounded a bit thick.

"Are you sure? What happened?" I touched her cheek and she flinched away from the heat of my hand. I headed to the kitchen to get a wet cloth to clean her face with.

Emily shrugged off her wet coat. "It doesn't matter. I'm fine. I don't want to talk about it. I just want to go to bed." She started to head for the stairs.

"At least let me clean your face." I held up the cloth.

She reached forward and took it from me. "I can do it."

"Em, are you okay?" I asked.

She turned to look down at me from halfway up the stairs. "Why wouldn't I be okay?"

I sighed and tried to phrase my words tactfully. "You just don't seem... okay." I finished lamely.

Emily regarded me for a moment and then turned back. "I'm going to bed."

"Why don't you take the day off tomorrow? You could call in sick and I'll make you breakfast in bed. We can go out... Maybe see a movie..." I suggested. I just wanted to see her happy again.

Emily stopped. "No. I can't. I've got to work."

"Come on, Em. One day." I couldn't believe the way I almost sounded like I was begging.

"No." Emily was resolute. "I'm going to bed. Goodnight."

"Emily? What happened?" I knew I was pushing but right then, I didn't care. Something had happened and she wouldn't talk to me. I didn't want her to tell me everything; I just didn't want her to shut me out.

"It doesn't matter! I don't want to talk about it, okay?" I could see why Agent Prentiss was so good at her job. She could be bloody terrifying without even raising her voice. I'd hate to be on the wrong end of her pistol.

"I don't want you to tell me everything; just please, please don't shut me out. Please, Emily."

"Goodnight." Emily continued up the stairs and then I heard the bedroom door slam. There was the sound of something breaking and then a swear word, followed by a stream of speech in a language I didn't understand. I knew she spoke Spanish, Italian, Arabic and fractured Russian as well as English. She could speak more and I wouldn't necessarily know.

I had a feeling I'd be sleeping on the sofa that night. I was still angry but I guess I knew that we'd get through it. We always did. We'd argued before and we'd argue again.

I went to the airing cupboard and got down a pillow and the spare duvet.

I was woken up later that night, or later that morning as I supposed it was, by shouts. Emily was screaming in her sleep again. I looked over at the DVD player clock and saw that it was just after six. I sat up and started at the ceiling. I could hear Emily tossing and turning in the quiet apartment and her screams were getting louder.

I didn't know if she'd want me but it was physically hurting to hear her in such pain and fear. So I threw off the duvet and ran up the stairs. But when I twisted the handle, it was locked.

"Emily?" I called, knocking on the door. "Emily? Are you okay?"

The screaming and shouts stopped abruptly. For a few minutes there was silence and then I heard the door unlock. I stepped back.

Emily appeared in the doorway. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were red-rimmed, her lashes in clumps from her tears. But she wasn't crying now. Her hair was tusseled and her breath was slightly erratic.

"Yes?" her tone was clipped. She obviously didn't want to go into details.

"Are you alright?" It seemed like a stupid question.

"Fine. I'm going to get ready for work."

"Oh, okay." I nodded. "Um, have a good day." I tried to sound like I meant it.

"You too." and the door closed in my face.


	4. Cuddles and Tragedies

Author's Note: So, all my exams are over! I'm so excited. Apart from my Maths exam, they were all good as far as I know. I'll get the results soon. So I'm officially back on Fanfiction. Yay! So this is my first update. I'll get onto writing the next bit of Four Walls and I'm thinking of writing a new Torchwood story. So, that'll be fun. Anyway, this is the chapter for To Hell and Back, after Emily gets home.

DISCLAIMER: I only own the point of view, not any of the original characters or Criminal Minds in general.

Cuddles and Tragedies

I woke up to the sound of the front door to the flat opening. Something in my brain told me that it was Emily getting back. She'd been gone for a few days, an important case, she'd said.

I glanced over at the clock. It was nearly two in the morning. I groaned, and contemplated staying in bed. But eventually, I rolled over and flung off the covers. Yawning, I made my way downstairs.

When I arrived in the front room, I noticed three things. The first was the fact that Emily was still wearing her suit jacket and boots. Usually they came off as soon as she had the chance. The second was the fact that she was holding a wine glass. It was half full. Usually, Emily never drank when she got home from a case. Alcohol kept her awake rather than sending her to sleep and after every case, she usually just wanted to sleep. Especially if it was a bad one. And this one looked like a bad one. I know people can change and do things they don't usually do but the third thing was the nail in the coffin. She was standing in the middle of the room with a blank look on her face. But her eyes... her eyes were filled with exhaustion, pain, disbelief, shock and dread. If I hadn't known better, I would've said she looked like she was about to burst into tears. Other than that night all those months ago, I'd never seen her cry. It was something she just didn't do. It had to have been a bad case.

"Bad?"

She looked up at me, and for a moment, her eyes focussed. But then it was gone again. "Bad." She confirmed. Her voice seemed far away, like there was something more important on her mind. She sounded like she couldn't focus. Her eyes were unfocussed as well.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" I asked.

Emily shook her head vehemently. "No."

"It might help."

She shook her head again. "No. No! I... I can't... I... I don't want..." and suddenly she was on her knees on the carpet.

I caught the wine glass before the wine sloshed over Emily or the floor and placed it carefully on the coffee table. Then I crouched down beside her. I was about to put my arms around her when I realised she was still wearing her gun. Gently, I removed the holster from her belt and put it on the coffee table as well, purposely facing the barrel away from us. Then I hugged her.

She had her hands over her face but I could still hear the hiss of her breathing beneath them.

"Emily, what happened?"

Emily shook her head, but less forcefully than the last time. "I can't... I don't want... I..." she seemed to be having trouble forming sentences.

"Sshh. It's okay. It's okay. I'm here. It's alright." I soothed, stroking her hair softly.

Her breath suddenly became ragged, as if she was trying desperately not to cry. From what I understood, she had to be somebody different on the job. She had to be the invincible, unbreakable Agent Prentiss. When she was working, she couldn't let any of the horrors get to her.

But now she was home.

"It's okay, love. You can cry if that's what you need to do."

Emily took a long, shuddering breath and then dropped her hands from her face. She sighed. I have to say, I'd expected tears but she still had that blank look on her face, the faraway glaze to her eyes like she was looking at something else.

"It was... so bad..." she blinked but it made no difference. "Eighty nine people... murdered." She took a deep breath. "At the end of the day... ninety one lives snuffed out and hundreds of people altered forever."

I felt ill listening to her. But I tried to focus on her. She had been in the middle of this. It must have been terrible. I leaned forward and kissed her temple. I couldn't comprehend living her life and doing her job; I had so much admiration for her, for getting up every day. There was nothing I could say to her, nothing that could pull her from her frozen state of pain. I had no experience of what she did and what she saw, nor did I wish to get any but the point was, anything I said was useless. That was hard.

So, carefully, I got up and pulled Emily to her feet with me. I peeled her jacket off her and slung it over the arm of the sofa. Emily seemed to have gathered what I was doing as she sat down on the sofa and reached to undo her boots. Her fingers fumbled with the zip and so I pushed them away and undid them myself. Having gently pulled the boots off her, I just left them on the floor. I pulled Emily onto her feet and lead her up the stairs to the bedroom.

She still seemed to be stuck in her zombie state so carefully, I undressed her and helped her into her pyjamas. I pushed her onto the bed and pulled the covers over her. And the whole time, her eyes stayed wide open and faraway. It was scary to see her so badly shaken.

I climbed in beside her and curled around her, my arms encircling her. I wanted to keep her warm; her skin was like ice.

When I eventually fell asleep, Emily was still wide awake staring at the wall.

I awoke to the sun streaming through the gap in the curtains. It looked like it was going to be a gorgeous day. I'd already decided I'd do whatever Emily wanted today without complaint. It was my day off so she could choose. I presumed she didn't have to work today. She hadn't been gone too long but from what she'd said, it had been a bad one.

But when I rolled over, she wasn't there. The bed was cold as well; apparently she'd been gone for a while.

Then I saw the note on her pillow. It had one word on it: Case.


	5. The Meanings of Life

Author's Note: So here is the chapter for the episode _Hopeless_. I hope you like it and please read and review.

I've had quite a few people saying how bad a girlfriend Emily is, and I just wanted to hit home what this story was about. I wanted to show how hard it must be to keep up a relationship when you see such terrible things that have the potential to alienate you from the world. I didn't want to show the happiness in the relationship, even though there are snippets here and there, for example, in the first chapter when Emily is pleased to be home. I wanted to show their relationship spiralling and have it coming from the point of view of a person who wants to understand but knows they never will. Anyway, please keep that in mind. Thanks.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the original characters or Criminal Minds.

The Meanings of Life

I'd been working the night shift at the hospital so Emily was home when I got in. It was nice: coming home to my girlfriend rather than my girlfriend coming home to me. I knew as soon as I walked in that she was home. Her coat was on the rack and her keys were on the coffee table. Nothing else looked like it had been touched. After hanging up my own coat and putting my bag on the floor by the sofa, I slowly climbed the stairs. On my way to the bathroom, I stuck my head around the doorframe of the bedroom and saw the dark shape of Emily, curled up under the duvet. Her face was hidden under her dark hair. It made me feel sad to see her so quiet and I didn't know why.

I quickly got ready for bed and then climbed in beside Emily. I curled up next to her and the heat she radiated, but in her sleep she shifted away. I knew it was probably because I was cold but as I fell asleep, I felt hurt.

When I woke up the next morning, Emily was gone. As I only had to work the afternoon after having done last night's late shift, I didn't have to rush but got up slowly, opening the curtains to the morning sun.

When I got downstairs, I found Emily standing, leaning against the breakfast bar as she slowly ate a bowl of porridge. Her eyes were faraway. I was getting used to that look.

"Sleep well?" I asked as I clicked on the kettle.

Emily just shrugged.

"How was your day yesterday?" I asked.

"I don't really want to talk about it."

I felt slightly, well, more than slightly resentful towards her. I felt like I was trying to make conversation and connect with her and all she did was shoot down my attempts.

We stood and sat in silence for a while. And then Emily spoke.

"What do you think the point of your life is?" she asked. "Why do you get up every morning?"

I considered the question. "I get up for you. I get up because my work saves lives. I get up because I'm happy. Why? What do you think the point to your life is?" I was curious to know where this question had come from.

"I don't know. To save lives, I suppose."

I was hurt, maybe irrationally so by the lacking mention of me in her life. Maybe that was selfish. Maybe she felt it didn't matter how she felt, whether she was happy or not. Maybe she thought she existed solely to catch killers and save lives. Maybe she didn't feel she deserved to be happy.

That made me sad. Because she did deserve to be happy. She was sweet, she was smart. She was funny and talented and she was good at her job. She was caring and she was loyal to the last. She did deserve to be happy. But it still hurt that I wasn't valued as such an important part of her life.

I got up and took my tea into the front room. I turned on the National News. The reporter was talking about a series of murders and how the FBI had caught the killer. It showed a few pictures of the victims and there was about ten seconds of footage of the police and FBI standing at a crime scene. I saw a flash of dark hair and then I realised that it was Emily. Emily and her unit had been working on the murders. And as I listened, I realised how much she hadn't told me, how much she was keeping from me. She was closing me out, slowly but surely.

Looking backwards the kitchen, I realised that Emily was standing at the end of the sofa. She had her hands wrapped around a cup of coffee and she was blowing on it to cool it down. She was doing what she always did: attempting to take sips before it was cool enough and burning her mouth. But what was bothering me was the way Emily was staring, albeit blankly, at herself on the television, staring at herself investigating something that was so god awful and was obviously troubling her and she didn't offer any explanation. Not even a smile to reassure me, to dismiss my worries. Nothing.

When I'd first got together with Emily, I had worried a lot about her getting hurt on the job. There were always stories on the news of police officers going down in the line of duty. Why not FBI? And worried. She used to laugh and reassure me gently that nothing could hurt her and that I couldn't get rid of her that easily, like you'd reassure a frightened child. I used to resent that a little bit. I knew it could happen. And so did she. We just kept playing this little charade.

But what was happening now was even worse. Injuries I could help with. Broken bones and flesh wounds, I could help her get better. But now, she was shutting me out. I couldn't reach her. I could help with the things that were deep inside her head. It was scary; I worried, one day, all those horrors would converge inside her mind and fracture her psyche. And then what would happen? Who knew? I didn't.

"I'm gonna head off." Emily's voice startled me.

I turned and tried to smile. "Okay. Have a good day, love."

She just smiled a tight smile, tipping her head forward as she moved towards the door with her briefcase in hand.

Not a word. I didn't get anything back as hard as I tried. I was losing her. And it was painful.

Author's Note II: I can so see Emily has a porridge person :)


	6. It's All Over

Author's Note: Hey, guys. Here's another chapter. This is for the episode 100. What's happened to you all? Have you all gone and died on me? I didn't have one review on the last one, nor any alerts or favourites or whatever. What happened? Please review this time. I have the most evil headache and getting this out has been a bit of a trial. Also, happy birthday to my best friend.

DISCLAIMER: I only own the character's perspective but none of the original characters.

It's All Over

I had made my decision. I had to leave. I couldn't stay here anymore. Every time I saw Emily, she was distracted and sad and it tore at my heart to see her like that and not be able to help her. Those demons from hell that she was fighting were deep inside her head, where I couldn't reach her. And I realised that I had lost her, probably a long time ago and I just hadn't been prepared to let her go.

I had my suitcases packed and they stood in a line by the door like toy soldiers. I was just waiting for Emily to come home so I could tell her. Half of me was screaming at myself to just go, she'd shut me out, she deserved to come home and find a letter. But I knew she didn't deserve that. That was unfair. I'd known her job was the most important part of her life and that the things she saw everyday changed her and changed her irreparably. As much as I wished she wouldn't do it, I trusted that she had her reasons.

The door clicked. She was home. The handle moved and then Emily was standing there. I wanted to say it straight out but I couldn't. "How was your day?"

Emily swallowed and I could see the tears collecting in her eyes. From the way her body folded inwards, I didn't even have to ask if it was bad. I knew already. She swallowed again. "I can't..." she composed herself. "It doesn't matter. You don't need to know."

And with that, those last five little words, cemented my decision. I had to do it. And I had to tell her then.

"Emily..." but I couldn't finish. She looked so hurt, so broken. The words lodged in my throat, leaving my mouth open.

She looked up, taking in my face. She turned her head slightly, considering me, her eyes never leaving mine. And then her eyes widened marginally. She glanced around and her eyes caught my suitcases. Her gaze only rested on them for a second before she looked back at me. I could see resignation covering every other emotion in her eyes.

She stepped towards me and rested her hands on my shoulders. She swallowed once, biting her lip. Then slowly, she kissed me. It was gentle, and so full of pain and need. But I couldn't let it happen. It wasn't fair to either of us.

But before I could push her away, she pulled back. We were standing do close, I could hear her breathing hitch. She was biting her lip again and the tears were pooling in her eyes like before. She blinked slowly and two of them slid down her cheeks. My heart stumbled. She looked so beautiful, and in so much pain. And I still loved her. But I knew it had to be this way and would only be harder to try again. Nothing would change.

"I'm sorry. I've got to..." I tried.

Emily just shook her head and made a run for the bedroom. As she reached the stairs, I heard her sob.

I winced. It was so painful that surely it wasn't the right thing to do. But I knew it was. It had to be this way. I couldn't keep living like that.

I heard the door slam upstairs and then the squeak of the bed. I could almost see her locking herself in now her bedroom and throwing herself on the bed to cry. Emily was never so emotional, well, not to me or when I was around. I wondered what had happened today that had broken down her defences. I didn't flatter myself in thinking the tears were solely because of me.

Sighing, I moved slowly towards the door, picking up my cases as I passed. I closed the door and locked it with my key. Holding it up, I remembered how it had been me who had suggested moving in together. It would be more sensible, I'd reasoned. Emily had been hesitant to begin with but eventually I had moved into her apartment; she had explained that it would be more complicated for her to change her address. Not knowing much about Law Enforcement, I could never tell whether that had been the truth or a lie fabricated to ensure that she could continue to live in a place she felt safe. If that was really the case, she only had to say and I would've agreed in a heartbeat. It made me realise how I'd initiated every move, not because she was timid, but because she didn't really trust anyone. It was scary how hard that realisation hit me. Emily didn't really trust anyone.

I sighed heavily, shaking my head. Without further thought, I posted my key through the letter box. It wasn't mine anymore. I heard it hit the floor on the other side with a chink.

When I reached the foyer of the apartment building, I glanced back up. Not that I could see Emily's apartment. Sighing again, I dragged my suitcases along and out of the front door. I began walking over to my car. Emily's car had a specific spot in the little car park but mine didn't. I had to park out on the street.

Once everything was packed into the back, I got in and slid my key into the ignition. Before I turned the car on though, I flipped down the sun visor. It was early evening and the sun was low in the sky. It looked like it was burning the trees.

But as I flipped the sun visor down, a photograph fluttered into my lap. I picked it up slowly. I realised it had been taken a few weeks before Emily had come home from New York, where the car bomb had killed an agent. From the angle of her arm, it looked like she was the one taking the photograph. Our heads were pressed together, our mouths twitching as we tried desperately not to crack up laughing. We were outside; I could see grass and blue sky in the background and Emily's hair was being blown off her face. We were both smiling. I think it was the only photo of us together that I had. I knew Emily had some and we both had some of the other but this was the only one I had of us together. I kept it in my car to remind myself that, as long as we were lucky, Emily would come home every night.

That was the first time I let the tears come.


	7. Final Conclusions

Author's Note: This is the end. I know some people didn't like it but I enjoyed writing it. Lots of people have said that they thought that Emily wouldn't be with a guy who just said yes to her all the time but I just want to say that not every relationship is_ the one_, and he was getting desperate. He thought she was closing him out forever. Love makes you do strange things. So, anyway, this is the end. I _did_ enjoy writing and what do you say to writing one more review?

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the original Criminal Minds characters.

Final Conclusions

I was coming out of the grocery store when I saw her. She was leaving the dry-cleaners with a multitude of plastic wrapped clothes draped over her shoulder. She looked both ways before crossing the road and then half ran, half walked towards her car.

I expected her to look the same as when I'd last seen her. But I was wrong. She looked different. She looked bad. Her skin was pale and her cheeks were more hollowed than the time I'd seen her. I'd almost say she looked gaunt, not as healthy as she used to.

And just under her hairline there was a dark red scar. It was healing but it still looked bad. And painful. I wondered how she'd done it. On the job no doubt.

But as she went to unlock her car, she shifted her dry-cleaning and I saw the bandage that was wrapped around her right forearm. There was tape to keep it in place and it looked reasonably new. I wondered if she'd done it at the same time as cutting her head.

I sighed and shook my head. Emily had always been pretty accident prone, but I reckoned she'd got these on the job. That's usually how it happened. But she'd always been purposefully vague about how she'd got hurt. And that had been what had driven us apart. That vagueness. I was doing pretty good but she wasn't. She looked bad.

One day that job was gonna kill her.


End file.
